Breathless
by mandabean
Summary: Draco’s newfound realizations cause him to struggle with everything his father has taught him to believe. Can he break away from the imminent doom to which his father’s ideals have him headed?
1. Chapter 1

**Breathless**

_Summary: Draco's newfound realizations cause him to struggle with everything his father has taught him to believe. Can he break away from the imminent doom to which his father's ideals have him headed?_

_Disclaimer: The characters in this story are not mine, but instead belong to the lovely JKR._

**Chapter One: Blown Away**

Here I stand at Malfoy Manor, the place that I have called home for the past 17 years of my life, surrounded by my father and his "associates." The current topic of discussion is the same as always. Destroying Harry Potter so that Voldemort can regain power over the entire wizarding world, ridding it of all muggles and mudbloods so that pureblooded wizards will have supreme power once again, blah, blah, blah. I put on my famous Malfoy sneer which leaves me free to daydream a bit, about things that I actually give a damn about.

Okay the thing is that I, too, not to long ago in fact, shared the belief that purebloods should rule over muggle-borns being that we were superior since we had been here first and all. But then I realized: So What? What difference did it make who was here first? In the grand scheme of things, what difference does it make whether the blood running through one's veins is "pure" or not? Blood is blood, right? In fact, the truth is that I did not so much agree with this belief so much as that I had an intense respect for my father, who at one time, could do no wrong in my eyes. Now, I see him for what he truly is. We'll get to that later, however. I must admit though that I did not have this eye opening revelation completely by my own doing. I had a push from a little, curly-haired, muggleborn witch, you see.

Hermione Granger. The "brightest witch of our age." And she truly is, too. The sad thing is that I spent more than six years making her life a living hell for being a muggleborn, or a "mudblood" as I so loved to call her. Now, I cringe at hearing the word spilled from anyone's lips. Before going on with my story, I must first mention this small fact. As a Malfoy, I am used to being handed anything I could ever ask for on a silver platter. I always had all the material things I could ever want, I had Crabbe and Goyle around to do my bidding and prevent me from receiving any bodily harm, and there was also never a shortage of pretty witches around, willing to fulfill any…needs of mine at any time. But I digress.

As far back as I can remember, probably from the day I was born, I was taught about Harry Potter and how he had defeated Voldemort as an infant. My father, of course, was not particularly pleased with the likes of Potter for destroying his precious "Dark Lord." I was told that one day, Voldemort would rise up into power again and defeat the Potter boy for good. So when he and I began school at Hogwarts the very same year, my father was beside himself at the prospect of me spying on him and eventually leading him to his defeat by said "Lord." As a young, impressionable boy of eleven, I too was excited by this prospect. Then along came Granger.

From the first time I lay eyes on that sassy little brown-haired witch, I was utterly taken with her. Oh, she was a proud little thing and she still is, I'm very glad to say. When she became best friends with the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Completely-And-Utterly-Make-Me-Vomit (ahem), along with his scarlet-haired pauper friend, my heart was torn up. Any chance at any semblance of a relationship with her was completely lost to me.

I was envious of the fact that Potter was famous in the wizarding community, even somewhat in the muggle world. Everyone knew his story and his scar, and there was a constant buzz about him everywhere he went. He had fame, fortune, (as did I) popularity, and of course, the fair Granger (alas, I did not). I had even attempted to make friends with him that first day on the Hogwarts Express, but he refused to shake my hand, thus leading to years of rivalries and enmity that I am just now realizing were completely on the petty side.

Back to Granger, my favorite subject of all. As I said earlier, I spent many years tormenting the poor girl, while filled with conflicting emotions regarding her. While I did truly consider both Potter and Weasley to be enemies of mine, what was between Hermione and I was on a completely different level. It went deeper, you could say. Despite the things I said to her, mudblood and such, I never actually felt vindictive towards her. In truth, I thought that getting a rise out of her was fantastic because it was the only I could get her to pay attention to me. And let me tell you, there was never and will never be, a sight lovelier to behold than an angry, passionate Hermione Granger. I'm sure if I could have, I would have swooned like a schoolgirl when faced with her wrath.

I was fascinated by her. Despite being a muggleborn, she always managed to have the highest grades in our class and was more adept to performing magic than were most of the pureblooded Slytherins. Excluding moi, of course. Beautiful without knowing it, well-liked despite her know-it-all tendencies, intelligent as hell, none of those things were qualities that I had been taught that a muggleborn would possess. And kind, always so kind. Always taking one for the underdog. An example being the SPEW campaign she set up, attempting to gain equal rights for elves although even the elves weren't to keen on this idea.

A better example: myself. It was during sixth year, shortly after the death of Dumbledore at Snape's hand, and I had just received the beating of a lifetime from father and a crucio from hell from that pathetic excuse for a lord for being a "miserable failure", as I believe they both put it. Hermione had stumbled upon me in the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, where I was laying, hoping for a swift death so that I wouldn't have to face anyone again ever.

I felt so trapped during those days. I did not share my father's beliefs, I did not want to follow Voldemort, and I did not want to be a murderer of muggles. Or anyone else for that matter. However, I felt that I had little choice but to follow in my father's footsteps as that was all I knew, all that was familiar to me at that point. Standing in front of Dumbledore that night, pointing my wand at him, I knew I would be unable to kill him. I knew that if he had lived, I would have changed sides right then and there and taken him up on his offer to protect myself and my mother.

Anyways, so Hermione happened to be traipsing through the Forbidden Forest and stumbled across me. It seems that she, Potter and Weasley had been looking for the giant brother of the half-giant, bumbling oaf (I kid because I love) for some reason or the other, and had chosen to split up, each covering a certain area. Luckily for me. Upon first seeing me in my quite broken state, Hermione looked quite scared I must say, and more than a little bit frightening as she paced the small area we were in, muttering to herself. She then proceeded to scream at me for a while, calling me every name in the book, before finally exhausting herself and settling down on the ground next to me. She took in all of my injuries and then healed me, actually took the time to heal the boy who had just recently tried to kill her beloved Headmaster, and who had allowed Deatheaters into Hogwarts in order to target students Just…Like…Her. Talk about being blown away.

As she healed me, we talked. I found myself spilling everything to her and I was both surprised and grateful when she listened with an objective ear, even becoming sympathetic at some points of my story. When she had finished healing me, and I had finished talking, she had tears in her beautiful dark eyes. She touched my cheek and whispered, "I'm so sorry that all of those things happened to you. You deserve better. You ARE better." I looked into her eyes to see if she meant what she said and was shocked and moved to see that she actually did mean it. I reached for her hand and she entwined our fingers. We sat in comfortable silence for awhile, both trying to comprehend what had just happened between us. Then we heard it.

"Hermione?" The Weasel's voice, at that point in time, the most annoying sound I had ever bared witness to. Then again.

"Hermione? Where are you?" Potty this time. Equally annoying. I heard her sigh and then she released my hand and stood. She turned to me.

"I have to go," she said. "There's no telling what they'll do if they catch you here." I gave her a tiny smile and nodded, although it pained me to know that she was leaving me.

Just then, the two boy wonders came crashing though the bushes and trees surrounding us and stopped cold in their tracks. Mouths agape and wands drawn, they cried in unison, "Hermione! What they hell is HE doing here?"

"And why are you here looking all cozy with him?" added the Weasel.

Suddenly, I am brought back into the present when I notice that my father and all the rest of the Deatheaters are looking at me expectantly. "Isn't that right, Draco?" my father says silkily, it being more of a command than a question. Whatever IT is.

"Absolutely, Father," I say. They keep staring at me, so what do I do next? Why, I sneer at them of course. Suddenly they are all nodding in approval and life amongst the muggle-haters becomes business as usual.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: Snuggles and Daydreams**

A.N: Not as cheesy as it sounds. And be prepared for the very detailed sexual content in this chapter.

**Disclaimer: The characters and setting of this story belong to JK Rowling, who I am not.**

After finally being excused from the torture that is the Death eater meetings, I was allowed to apparate back to Hogwarts where I am currently finishing up my seventh and final year of school. I am looking forward to getting back so that I can engage in some quality time with my beautiful, doe-eyed girlfriend. She always gets anxious on days that I am forced to attend these meetings so I am pretty much guaranteed a good snuggling/snogging/sexual healing session upon returning to her. And I do mean snuggle in the most masculine sense of the word.

I report first to Professor McGonagall, as she is the new leader of the Order, to let her know any news that I might have learned from my father or any of his "acquaintances," then I hurry up to Gryffindor tower, where this year's Head Girl's quarters are. Stopping at the lion portrait guarding the entrance to her rooms, I give the password, Sexy Serpent, (Guess who came up with that one?) and slip quietly and unnoticed into the living quarters of my beloved Hermione.

It's quite late, but I am not surprised to find that she is not in her bed. As I said before, she gets quite antsy on these particular days and she says that she cannot sleep until she knows I am safe. Such is Hermione, so good and kind and beautiful, gorgeous really, and, and, and…okay, moving on.

I hear water running in the bathroom and smirk to myself when I realize she is probably in the bathtub and therefore, completely nude. My cock does a little happy dance in my trousers as I move closer to the bathroom door, slipping out of my clothing as I go.

I had meant to surprise her, not scare the living shit out of her. Upon opening the door, I saw my lovely Gryffindor princess sitting in the large tub, with her back to me, wearing some muggle contraption on her head. The eye-pod thingy she is so crazy about, I presume.

Anyways, I walk nearer to the tub and go to run my hand through her gorgeous, wild hair. My hand barely grazes her head before she is screaming, jumping out of the tub and tackling me to the floor in a split second. She stares down at me wide-eyed and panting, and then proceeds to attack me with kisses and apologies.

"Gods, Draco, you scared me! I'm so sorry, did I hurt you?" Then she is pummeling me with her tiny fists. "Don't ever sneak up on me again! I could've really hurt you!" Realizing that I am naked on the floor, with a slippery, wet, naked Hermione straddling me, I am quick to forgive her. I apologize for startling her, and then pull her face down to mine so that I can taste her beautiful lips. Our kiss becomes passionate, needy, and I flip us over so that I am the one on top.

Knowing what we both need, I slip my throbbing cock into her heat, burying my face in her fragrant neck, resolving to be take my time with her next time, but needing to be inside of her so badly. I take her hard and fast and she is clutching me to her, moaning and groaning, calling out my name as she comes. The feel of her orgasm sends me into bliss with her and I call out her name in answer.

After, we lay together on the bathroom floor and I am kissing her nose, her chin, her throat. "Hermione, my lady love. My beautiful Gryffindor witch," I breathe into her skin.

"Gods, Draco, that was fantastic," she says, giving me a silly grin.

"I know," I reply smugly, and then I get to my feet, scoop her into my arms and make my way into her bedroom where I toss her onto the bed. Crawling in beside her, I spoon her from behind and bury my face in her hair. At that point, I believe I truly know what heaven is.

After sleeping for a few hours, I awaken hungry for her again. Still behind her, I decide to give her a wake-up call she'll never forget. Kissing the back of her neck, I run my hands all over her body, kneading her breasts, caressing her belly, and lightly running my hands down her legs until she begins to stir. When my hand reaches her lovely lower lips, I can feel that she is already wet for me. I lift one of her legs so that it rests on my hip and I rub her clit gently as I slide into her pussy from behind. She moans and pushes her bottom against me hips, urging me on.

"Oh Hermione, my love. My witch, my beauty," I moan into her ear. Hermione is a very aural person by nature and the same holds true during sex. More plainly said, she loves it when I talk to her when we are making love. Sometimes I like to throw her for a loop by being slightly obscene, telling her all the wicked, naughty things I plan on doing to her someday, but normally I just want her to know how much I love her while I am pounding my erection into her. I have to make sure she knows whose cock it is, you know. Of course, there is the particularly delicious fact that my cock is the only one that has ever been inside of her, and I plan on keeping it that way.

Her pussy feels amazing, all velvet heat, slick and clinging. I know that I will not last much longer so I increase my efforts on her adorable little love button. Fingering it, I tell her, "Come for me baby, let me feel how much you need me. I want to feel your beautiful pussy clenching onto me like it's never going to let go." I thrust into her deeply then and it does the job, for she yelps and her pussy indeed clenches onto my cock in a way that sends me over the edge. I'm seeing stars and black spots behind my eyes, and I know that I have never come so hard in my life. "Damn baby," I groan, "You are so amazing."

"I know," she says smugly, mocking me, and I punish her by tickling her and kissing her breathless. Laying over her, I look down at her, into her big, chocolate eyes. "I love you," she breathes. Looking into her eyes, I know that she means what she says. For some completely ridiculous reason, she truly does love me. I snuggle into her and we head for dreamland together.

Lucky for us it is a Sunday, as my Deatheater meetings fall on two Saturdays a month. Sunday for us means that we get to spend the whole day together, albeit hiding out in the Head Girl's dorm. Aside from Potter and Weasley, no one knows of our relationship and we both know that this is the best arrangement. For if word got to Father, my cover would be blown and Merlin only knows what those psychotic minions of Voldemort would do to my Hermione. But I won't think of that, I can't.

As per usual, we spend the day in bed studying together, snuggling, and making love. We order food from the kitchen so that we don't have to separate for even a few minutes to make an appearance in the Great Hall. Even Potter and Weasley manage to leave us alone on Sundays. Despite their earlier feelings for me, they have seen Hermione and me together and must know that what we have runs deep and is quite real indeed.

The only negative part of the day is that at 7:00 on Sunday nights, Hermione must meet with the Head Boy, Anthony Goldstein, to discuss head duties. Now, I realize that Goldstein has a girlfriend of his own, some sixth year Hufflepuff, I believe, but Malfoy men are possessive by nature.

After all, Hermione is _the_ most beautiful, desirable, intelligent witch in the world. What self-respecting, red-blooded wizard wouldn't want to get her in his clutches? Therefore, it follows that right before she leaves her dormitory to meet Goldstein in the prefects' office, I have my tongue down her throat, staking my claim.

I'm struck with an even better idea then, and clamp my lips and teeth onto her neck leaving a vicious love-bite in the process. Ha, let her explain that one to the student body of Hogwarts. They'll probably just assume it came from Potty or the Weasel…Okay, THAT thought stopped me in my tracks. I turn back to Hermione, pull out my wand and proceed to vanish the mark away.

Hermione rolls her eyes and giggles and I know that she knows my thoughts exactly. I can't have people thinking that the wonderful, amazing Gryffindor princess lets either of those two wankers suck on her neck, or put their mouths anywhere near her, for that matter. Just to clear something up, even though Potter and Weasley and I are on the same side now doesn't mean they won't always be wankers to me.

After she manages to get out of my stranglehold of a hug, I give Hermione one last kiss and a firm pat on her hot little arse before she leaves me for Goldstein. Alright, poor choice of words, but I must admit that I am one pouty boy. Man, I mean (ahem).I watch her saunter down the corridor and then taking care so as not to be seen, I depart from the Head Girl's dormitory and get far, far away from the land of the Gryffindorks.

I make my way down to the Great Hall, hoping to get some dinner and plunk myself down between Crabbe and Goyle, my loyal oafs…friends, I mean to say. Pansy, Millicent, Blaise and Theo are sitting across from the three of us in the usual fashion.

Oh, I've been sitting here for two minutes, maximum, and I'm already contemplating hexing my foot off just for a distraction. Every where I go, inferior muggleborns this, yay for purebloods that, Voldemort is God, yada-yada-yada. Give me a break already. Oh well. I plaster a sneer on my face and settle in for a good old bout of daydreaming. In the most masculine sense of the word, of course.

_A.N. Up next, more reflections on the beginning of Draco's and Hermione's relationship and another meeting with the Deatheaters. So, what do you guys think so far?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: The characters and setting of this story belong to JK Rowling, who I am not.**

A.N: The beginning of this chapter is Draco looking back to the start of his relationship with Hermione and how he came to join the Order. It begins where the first chapter left off.

_From Chapter One:_

"_I have to go," she said. "There's no telling what they'll do if they catch you here." I gave her a tiny smile and nodded, although it pained me to know that she was leaving me._

_Just then, the two boy wonders came crashing though the bushes and trees surrounding us and stopped cold in their tracks. Mouths agape and wands drawn, they cried in unison, "Hermione! What they hell is HE doing here?"_

"_And why are you here looking all cozy with him?" added the Weasel._

**Chapter Three: Voldie's Plan**

Hermione's face had gone white as a sheet when she heard Potter and Weasley's voices and realized that they had discovered where our little hideout was. I was understandably shocked when she positioned herself to stand in front of me, shielding me from being murdered on the spot by those two morons.

"Don't come any closer," she warned them, in a voice I had heard before, but had never heard directed at the two of them. "You have no idea what Draco has been through and the last thing he needs right now is any trouble from you lot." Potter and Weasley gaped at her like fish out of water, and I couldn't help it; I smirked at them.

"D-Draco? Don't you mean Malfoy? Hermione, what the hell happened here?" sputtered Weasley, his face almost matching the peculiar shade of his reddish-orange hair. Potter, for his credit, remained silent, sizing up the situation in his own quiet way.

"Look Ron, Harry, I think Draco needs to speak to Professor McGonagall immediately. Afterwards, if he wishes, he or I will explain to you both what has happened," said my little, golden-eyed angel.

"Professor McGonagall? So he can try and kill her too? That sounds like a bloody brilliant plan, Hermione," shrieked the Weasel. Potter stepped in at that point, putting his hand on Weasley's shoulder but not taking his eyes off of me.

"No, Ron. I think we'd better do as she says. Hermione has never been wrong before, has she?" Weasley turned to gape at Potter, then back to Hermione and back to Potter again. "Am I missing something here?" he said. "Malfoy tried to KILL Dumbledore! What difference does it make that he didn't go through with it. He would have done it if Snape hadn't stepped in. AND he let the Deatheaters into the school. So you'll have to forgive me if I can't quite imagine what he and McGonagall would possibly have to discuss."

Hermione stuck her lovely nose in the air. "That's right, Ron. You can't possibly imagine," she said. She came over to me, kneeling down to next to me. I heard the Weasel gasp and I smirked again. I can't help it, I was born smirking. My lovely witch put her hands on me, inspecting me to make sure that my injuries had healed properly. Oh, those delectable, naughty little hands of hers.

"Draco, are you very sore still?" she asked me compassionately. "Do you think you can walk?" Looking into her eyes right then, I rather thought myself capable of doing anything at all. She stood up and turned to the two wankers.

"Harry, will you please help Draco stand." It was an order not a request, a fact that Potter was well aware of. The prospect of being helped up by Harry "I'm a God" Potter didn't exactly sit well with me. He extended his hand to me, to which I responded with, "No, really, I'm good," and used the tree I had been leaning against to pull myself up.

I felt surprisingly little pain in my body, and my admiration and appreciation for the clever Gryffindor witch grew even further. If it hadn't been for her, I'd have been dead at that point, for certain. It took me a couple of minutes but my legs finally seemed strong enough to hold me up so I released my grip on the tree.

I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned my body against the tree, smirking at Weasley, if only to make him as nervous and pissed off as possible. Some things never change. His face turned that peculiar red-orange shade immediately. Seriously, from zero to tomato in less than one second. Ah, the many talents of a Malfoy.

Hermione took my arm and started to lead me in the direction of the castle and I was happy to follow her anywhere. Sort of like a faithful dog or other beast, now that I think about it. Hmmm… Anyways, Potter and Weasley followed behind us and I could hear them arguing behind us, Weasley being irrational and insecure, as usual and Potter attempting to calm him down with his "wise words."

'Stupid gits and their stupid love spats,' I thought to myself. Hermione's hand moved down my arm to entwine her fingers with mine and I was happy again.

I grew a bit nervous as we got closer to Hogwart's Castle, and I think Hermione could tell because she started rubbing her thumb on the palm of my hand, which proved to be a definite distraction. In my pants.

'Great,' I thought. 'I get to go pledge my allegiance against Voldemort, whilst trying to keep a raging boner contained. Thank Merlin for robes.

Yes, I will admit that I got the biggest hard-on I've ever had from simple thumb-on-palm contact. Keep in mind, however, that this was the thumb of the sexiest, most divine witch the world has ever known. Those sweet, delicious little thumbs… Oh. Right. McGonagall. Hogwarts. Voldemort bad. Okay, moving on.

So there we stood, the four of us, outside the office of the new Headmistress of Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall. Also the head of Gryffindor house, there had been very little love lost between us in the first place so you can understand why I was not particularly excited to get this conversation over with. Throw the attempted murder of Dumbledore into the mix, and I was willing to bet that I was not on her list of favorite people.

To make matters worse, McGonagall was not alone. Several Order members, including the sire and two oldest sons of the Weasley clan, were seated around her office. Let me tell you, Order members and the sons of prominent deatheaters do not often hang out together in wee little offices. But Hermione, sweet, fair, intelligent Hermione, still holding onto my hand, brought me into the Headmistress' office, sat me down on a little sofa and then stood in front of the occupants of the room, proceeding to convince the lot of them to hear me out.

All of the Order members present knew Hermione quite well and therefore realized the level of her intellect and insanely good common sense. Once they had agreed to listen objectively, some more reluctantly (Weasel) than others, Hermione seated herself next to me, and grasped my hand once more.

"Go on," she prodded me gently. And so, drawing strength from the touch of Hermione's hand and the gold in her eyes, I did. For the second time that evening, I spilled the entire story. And when I had finished, I heard more than one person sniffling. I looked over at Hermione, who was crying in earnest, and she smiled at me through her tears. If I hadn't already been convinced, that little smile was all the reassurance I needed to know that what I was doing was the right thing.

"What are you smiling about, Drakie?" I hear a familiar, voice ask, shrill and annoying as hell. Oh, shit! Pansy, of course. And Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini and Millicent. Great Hall, Slytherin table. Got it.

"Er, I was just thinking about the time that Potty passed out from the Dementors," I stammer. Did I say "stammer"? How ghastly. Malfoys don't stammer, we would never do something so…common. Our words flow with graceful eloquence and…Erm. My sneer has evolved into something more along the lines of a grimace.

"How about the time that you used the "densaugeo" charm on the Mudblood's teeth?" shrieks Pansy. "That was hilar-!" I push up from the table instantly.

"Well, alright then. Have a lovely evening, you lot!" I call to the table of confused Slytherins (not that it takes much with some of them), already halfway out of the Great Hall at this point.

Okay, I know that I need to work on being less translucent when it comes to matters of Hermione, but I just can't sit there and laugh about all of the shitty things that I have done to her in the past. My magnificent, stunning, astonishing witch deserves better than that, and I intend to spend the rest of my life making up for my wrong-doings to her. In very creative ways. Naked. You get the idea. That reminds me, she should be finished with Goldstein by now. It's only been a little over an hour from when I last saw her and I'm already positively pining for her.

**Two Weeks Later…**

Sitting in Father's study, along with twenty or so Deatheaters and the illustrious "Dark Lord" himself, I am bored out of my mind. Not to mention extremely disgusted with the whole lot of them. That is, until I hear something that sends chills down my spine and raises my hackles. Wait, what did they say about Granger? My Granger? What the… 'Keep calm,' I tell myself. 'Poker face, poker face, poker face.'

"I'm sure that you will be more than happy to assist us in this plan, young Malfoy," Voldemort says to me. Lucius is giving me a Look and I know that I am to agree with whatever is spoken of on this night.

"Yes, of course, my Lord," I say. I'm dying a little inside, wondering what they hell they are planning that involves my lady love.

"Excellent," Voldie says to me, with a grotesque grin on his face. "I'll have Lucius here work out the details with you as soon as possible."

"Absolutely. I'll do anything I can to help you, my Lord. Particularly anything directly involving Potter or his little entourage," I say, a little too enthusiastically, hoping too discover where Hermione comes into all of this. Lucius looks rather surprised and pleased by my eagerness to aid the cause and nods at me proudly.

"My son is the perfect means to get to that filthy, little, mudblood whore," he says with pride.

'Poker face, poker face, poker face.'

"And while you're at it, Son," he continues, and I am positively about to have a brain aneurysm, "you might as well have your way with the little slut. After all, that's what her kind is meant for. Service and slavery." He gives me a wink and I hope that the look of utter disgust and hatred on my face will be mistaken for being directed at the thought of sleeping with a mud… muggleborn.

At that moment, all I want to do is flee back to Hogwarts, grab my precious witch and apparate far, far away with her. I want to hold her safely in my arms until we both die from an overdose of love, sex and passion.

In the meantime, I am left to plot her very demise. I tell myself that that's not really how it goes, because the very second I set foot back at school, I will be banging McGonagall's door down and demanding that she see to it that my witch is well-protected every second of every minute of every hour of every goddamn, bloody, fucking day. And I will die before I let these…savages, lay a single filthy hand on her.

By the time I'm free to go, I'm so exhausted I can't stop yawning and my eyes are drooping. But I could never be too tired for a nice little snuggle session with my sweet, wonderful Hermione. Erm. Did I say snuggle? Well what can I say, Malfoys need lovin' too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: Mine, with a Capital M**

**Disclaimer: Guess what? I am NOT JKR. If I was, I think the books and movies would qualify as soft-core porn.**

**Thank you so much to all of my reviewers: _NelStar7, jennynopenny, When I'm Happy You Laugh.I Secretly hate you., Death to all who defy me, and _****_AcademicDragon_******

After leaving the Deatheaters' meeting at Malfoy Manor, I am itching to get back to Hogwarts and inform Professor McGonagall of Voldemort's little scheme involving the love of my life. It's unfortunate that I hadn't been paying that much attention at the beginning of the meeting so I really don't know all of the facts. I know enough though. I know that my beloved's name had been uttered from the mouths of several of those hateful creatures and that's enough to piss me right the hell off.

As expected, McGonagall is waiting for me in her office, along with Tonks, Remus Lupin, Mad-Eye Moody, Arthur Weasley and, of course, Harry Potter. I know Potter is going to shit his little hero-boy pants when I tell him about Hermione being involved, which is the one and only positive aspect of the whole situation.

I tell them what I know of the plan. Namely, that I am supposed to somehow deliver my cherished girlfriend into the arms of the muggle-hating posse, thus sending Potter directly to Voldemort when he and Weasley come looking for her, as they most assuredly would.

As expected, Potter is livid and that makes my day. I can't help but giggle a little on the inside. I just love an outraged, pissed off Potter. He looks so comical, all crazy hair and idiotic glasses. And that horrid scar…Oh, that Potter. He kills me.

Humorous though he may be, once I remember that he is outraged on behalf of my exquisite, precious little witch, the internal giggling comes to an abrupt halt. I've often found that I laugh at incredibly inappropriate times and I know that this time would definitely take the trophy. Maybe I giggle when I'm nervous or anxious? I dunno.

Speaking of which, I need to get to Hermione so goddamn bad! I'm dying here. After a night like tonight, I need to reassure myself that she is untouched and okay. I need to hold her in my arms and smell her scent and kiss her all over her lithe little body. I need to…well, right now I need to pay attention to what McGonagall and the others are saying, but afterwards, let me tell you…

After making each individual Order member in attendance swear to me on their lives that they will let no harm come to Hermione Granger whatsoever, I depart McGonagall's office and head to my precious love's dormitory. She's not in her bed, but I'm not panicking yet. I'm absolutely not.

'She must be taking a shower or bath,' I tell myself, although I don't hear any sounds coming from her bathroom. When I approach her bathroom door, it is open, and dark, and there is no Hermione. And I am panicking. I whimper in fright, realize that I just whimpered, and then I grunt like the real man that I am. And I'm off, a MAN on a mission.

Running out of the Head Girl's quarters, down the blasted, schizophrenic stairs, through the hall, I pass by the library and all of a sudden realize that I, Draco Malfoy, am a complete and utter dunce.

Duh. Why wouldn't I check the library _first_? NEWTS are drawing closer and my little Study-bug has gotten even _more_ anal retentive about studying and homework and all that jazz. I still wish that she wouldn't wander around at night by herself, though. I open the library door and it appears to be empty, but I know where my little kitten likes to hide.

Sure enough, I find her sitting at the table she always sits at, in the way, way back of the library, right next to the Restricted Section. She is using her wand as a source of light, which is quite bright, not surprising since it is the work of my brilliant witch. When she notices me, I can see the relief in her eyes and it warms me all over. She jumps up from the table and squeals, and then throws herself at me. I catch her and wrap her little body in my arms.

I think I might've squealed too, so happy was I to see her, and then I want to yell at her and hug her to death at the same time. I settle for lifting her body into mine and kissing her all over her beautiful little face. I stand there like that for a few minutes, just holding onto her with my face buried in her hair, and the thought of taking her and fleeing the country crosses my mind again.

"Umm, Draco?" my Angel says, sounding inquisitive.

"Hmm," I breathe into her hair.

"Why do you keep sniffing me like that?"

Oh, uhh, yeah. That.

Okay, I suppose that probably would be a little weird, to have someone repeatedly sticking their nose in your hair and taking deep sniffs for long periods at a time. I can't help it though, I am addicted to her. Her very essence soothes me and makes me think that all is right in the world. And she is mine. Make that Mine, with a capital M.

Instead of answering her, I kiss her brow and run my hand through her hair. She's looking up at me in concern and I know she's going to want to talk about the Deatheaters meeting. Do I tell her about the plan, or not?

On the one hand, I don't want to frighten her or make her unreasonably paranoid. But on the other hand, my lioness is as brave as they come. It takes a lot to scare Hermione, and besides, under these circumstances I want her to be a little paranoid. That way I'll know that she is taking extra precautions so as not to find herself in the wrong hands.

"Draco? Did it go okay tonight?" she asks me. I regard her intensely for a minute and then take a deep breath, coming to a decision. I'll tell her later.

"It went fine. The usual," I wave my hand as if to dismiss the topic. "I could sure use some quality time between the sheets with my gorgeous Gryffindor Goddess, however." I waggle my eyebrows at her and she is momentarily distracted by my devastating charm and sex appeal .Can you honestly blame her though?

I walk over to her table and start shoving her belongings into her bag. Slinging the bag over my shoulder, I scoop my love up into my arms and head for the Head Girl's rooms, not giving a shit about the possibility of anyone seeing us out together this late at night.

Once we get inside her bedroom, I place her on the bed and begin tearing my own clothes off as she does the same with her own clothes. We need to be close to each other, warm, satin skin on skin. Once I am sufficiently nude, I climb into bed with her and help her rip her undergarments off. Then I gather her close to me and we cling to each other for a while, our mouths and tongues making love to each other.

"Hermione," I breathe into her lips.

"Draco," she sighs.

"I need to be inside of you," I say, licking a path down her neck. She moans and rolls onto her back, pulling me over her. Kneeling between her legs, I run my fingers over her folds and find that she is practically dripping for me. That's my good, obedient, little sex-kitten.

I bury my face in her breasts and plunge into her heavenly heat, groaning as I do so. She moans my name in response and I slowly thrust in and out of her, savoring the feel of being inside of her.

"Hermione, my love, my lioness," I moan into her skin.

"Draco, my sexy, blond, uh… dragon," she moans back to me. Gods, she is adorable.

"I'm your dragon, yeah that's right, baby," I coo to her. "I'm your fierce, hot, fire-breathing dragon, here to shag you into oblivion." When she groans in ecstasy, I think to myself, 'Damn, I'm good.'

I continue slowly rolling my hips into hers until I can tell that she is getting close to climaxing, and then I slam into her with abandon until the heat is building and building and she is crying out my name. In no time at all, I am helplessly emptying my essence into her clenching pussy.

Heaven, I tell you. We both drift off into an exhausted sleep then, our bodies tightly entwined together.

When I awaken, I'm pretty sure that I've died and gone to Heaven. There kneeling between my legs, is the most exquisite, golden-eyed, bushy haired beauty, with her gorgeous red lips wrapped around my aching cock. I pinch myself to make sure that I am in fact, still alive and/or awake, before giving in to the immense pleasure and groaning my ass off.

"Oh, Hermione. Baby, you are so sexy. Oh, what did I do to deserve you?" I moan, and she deep throats me in earnest. About two seconds later, I proceed to explode into her mouth. She swallows it all, licks me clean and then smiles up at me proudly. I really am the luckiest wizard in the fucking world.

After a performance like that, what else can I do but return the favor? I crawl over the top of her and settle myself between her legs. I kiss her inner thighs, then stick my nose in her crotch and take a deep sniff. Mmmm, yummy, yummy Hermione.

I lick her from the bottom of her pussy to her clit, then swipe my tongue around her clit a few times. I feel her begin to tense up already. I smile, feeling quite smug in the knowledge that I could make her come in ten seconds if I want to. I stick my tongue inside of her and fuck her deeply with it until she yelps out her orgasm.

"That's my lovely, precious, sexy little lioness," I croon to her, and then lap up her remaining juices. Delicious.

I crawl up her trembling body and pull her into my embrace. I know that I should probably tell her about the meeting pretty soon, but I don't want to spoil her contentment. My baby has been quite stressed out lately and she deserves a few moments of blissful peace.

She falls back to sleep, and I am left staring at the ceiling, fretting about everything. I don't want Hermione to worry her pretty little head anymore than she already does, and I don't think she will be scared about old Voldie including her in his plans, but she will definitely be pissed off. And she will worry about Potter and the Weasel. And me, of course. Not that I can't take care of myself, mind you.

But my Hermione is a brave soul and she is strong as hell. If anything, she'll probably come up with some killer plan to make the plan blow up in the faces of Voldemort and his slimy band of Deatheaters. So I wake her up gently, kissing her face and whispering to her.

"I need to talk to you about something," I tell her, and her pretty brow knits in concern. "It's about the meeting last night."

She sits up and rubs her adorably drowsy eyes, but she is ready to hear whatever I have to tell her. So I tell her everything I know about the plan. And boy is she pissed off.

"That ugly, slimy, filthy, pathetic, horrible excuse for a man!" she spouts. Then she shocks the hell out of me. "Let those goddamn pieces of shit just try it. I fucking dare them! Bring it on, fuck-chops!"

Fuck-chops?

Okay, the thing is that my princess rarely uses curse words. And she has to be really, really angry in order to use the fuck-word. (Fuck-chops, really?) But I'm mightily impressed by her colorful use of language, and I must admit, I'm a little turned on as well. I don't fancy having my cock hexed off, however, so I control my urges.

I let her pace around and curse her adorable little arse off for awhile, but then decide enough is enough.

"Baby," I coo to her, pulling her into my arms, "those "fuck-chops" as you say" (I just love that word now) "don't stand a chance, okay? I already spoke to McGonagall and the Order is working on a plan of their own."

I feel her relax immediately when she hears that the Order is already on it. I kiss her sweet little forehead and sniff her hair for awhile, and I feel all warm and fuzzy inside when she looks up at me and gives me one of her lovely smiles.

After that episode, we could both use a little sexual healing, so we crawl back into bed and that's where we stay until seven p.m. rolls around and she has to leave me to meet Anthony "fuck-chop" Goldstein.

Before she leaves, I give her a snog session she'll never forget whilst rubbing my self all over her like a cat. I heard that's how they mark their territory, by spreading their scent all over their owners and fellow cat friends. It sounds like a good idea to me so I give it a shot. On the down side, by the time she has to leave, I have a massive hard-on and am forced to take a cold shower in order to ease my boy down a bit.

At dinner that evening, I am silently suffering through a "conversation" with the Slytherins about the Golden Trio, as Potter, Weasley and Hermione are known around school.

"Gods, do you think she takes them both on at the same time?" Millicent asks, referring to my girlfriend and who else? You guessed it. Potty and the Weasel. I gag a little on my dinner but manage to keep my face neutral.

I look towards the Gryffindor table, where I know my precious won't be since she is currently in the company of Anthony bloody Goldstein, holed up in a dark secluded office, probably having to fight off Goldstein's advances with a stick…Okay, better stop that right now before I'm forced to "Avada" him…

I look over at the other two members of the Golden Trio while the Slytherins keep on making crude comments regarding the prudishness of one Hermione Granger. I smirk to myself. Or at the wankers, I mean. Whatever.

"Oh please, Millie," I hear Pansy moo -er, I mean say-, "that uptight little bitch? She'll probably die a virgin!" At this lovely little comment, most of the Slytherin table bursts into laughter.

My smirk broadens as I am pleasantly reminded of some of the naughty, delicious things my Golden Goddess has done to me –and let me do to her- and I too burst into laughter at the complete and utter stupidity of these people. Oh if they only knew some of the positions I had gotten the Head Girl's sexy little body into. Why, just last night I had had her bent over the…Erm.

I realize that I've been staring at Potter the whole time and smiling dreamily while reminiscing about the lewd acts performed with my lioness. He keeps nervously glancing at me and appears to be totally creeped out. In your dreams, Potter.

"It's really a shame though," says Theo Nott, and I smile dreamily again, knowing what's coming, and imagining the feel of my fist slamming into Nott's face. "She's turned into a pretty hot little number. The arse on that witch is amazing!" My smile turns into an all-out grin as my fantasy of punching him out becomes even more vivid.

"Yeah, I wouldn't turn away a chance to tap that ass!" says Blaise enthusiastically, and all of the males at the table are laughing and agreeing with him. I feel a brief twinge of pain. Blaise_ is_ the _second_ best looking wizard in the school .Stupid Blaise and his stupid…sexiness. I know my little witch loves me though, and I trust her implicitly.

Theo chimes in again, laughing, "She's probably a tiger in the sack. I mean, she has to let herself go sometime, don't you think?" The males all agree and laugh some more. Excluding me. I've had enough.

"Must you idiots always be so vulgar?" I roar, and you should have seen the looks on their faces. Where's my poker face now?

"Oh sorry, Malfoy. I don't mean to offend your prudish little virgin ears," Nott says, smirking. How dare he smirk at me! Imagine, someone smirking at a Malfoy! Outrageous.

I get up from the table and mutter some excuse about having a headache and wander off in search of my Hermione. On the way out, I can't help but glance over at Potter and sure enough, he is still looking rather uneasily at me.

Just for kicks, I throw him a wink and he looks away in a hurry, looking extremely uncomfortable. Oh, Potter, you're too easy. The brief torment of him does make me feel better, though. Now where is my lovely witch at? I believe we have some unfinished business to tend to.


End file.
